


Mortal in Folly

by heresy_in_fair



Category: As You Like It - Shakespeare, SHAKESPEARE William - Works
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, F/F, F/M, Football | Soccer, M/M, Matchmaking, Meet-Cute, and celia is just a really good student ig, here are who plays sports:, i suck at tags guys, olive is a cheerleader, orlando plays soccer, rosalind plays volleyball, then touchstone is a theater kid
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-14
Updated: 2020-08-12
Packaged: 2021-03-05 04:01:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,708
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25268029
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/heresy_in_fair/pseuds/heresy_in_fair
Summary: Rosalind is in control: she's a junior on varsity volleyball, she's a straight-A student, she's got her sights set on Student Body President next year, and she's plotting to get rid of the current principal, her tyrannical uncle Frederick. Enter Orlando, a variable she can't control.
Relationships: Oliver de Boys/Celia, Orlando de Boys/Rosalind, Other Relationship Tags to Be Added
Comments: 16
Kudos: 8





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> the first chapter of this was written for Lover's Day of @harry-leroy's Shakespeare Appreciation Week 2020 on tumblr!

“This is ridiculous,” Rosalind grumbled. “Just because we’re related to the principal doesn’t mean we should be required to go to every single playoff game of every single sport in this godforsaken school.”

Celia elbowed her lightly, chuckling. “You weren’t complaining when I went to the volleyball playoffs, were you?”

Rosalind huffed. “Oh, come on. Are you saying you wouldn’t have come anyways?”

“Nope.”

“Not even to support your favorite cousin?” Rosalind looped her arm through Celia’s.

“I only _have_ one cousin, Ros,” Celia reminded her. Rosalind pouted, pretending to be hurt, but both girls were grinning.

“Ah, come on, you love me,” Rosalind said. 

“Yeah, I do,” Celia replied simply. 

The two girls rounded the corner of the gym and found themselves at the top of the bleachers. Below them, about twenty rows of elevated metal bleachers stretched down before abruptly cutting off. A chain-link fence separated them from the track and the field within it, although there were some stairs down that were dispersed along the bottom of the bleachers. On the field, the Arden High and Vienna High soccer teams were running through drills, the nerves apparent in the way they bounced up and down in place, their fingers twitching at their sides. 

Rosalind and Celia started down the bleachers, settling on a place near the bottom. Rosalind fidgeted with the hem of her forest green ARDEN VOLLEYBALL pullover, wishing she could just go home and work on her speech for student body president. She scanned the field, looking to see if she knew anyone on either team, but came up empty. She vaguely recognized a hulking defensive midfielder on the opposing team; his name was Angelo, and just last week he’d nearly gotten suspended. Rumor was he had socked a kid in the chest, but that the principal had somehow been behind it. Rosalind felt a tightening in her chest at the thought that there could be more than one tyrannical principal in their school district, but pushed her thoughts away. Now was not the time to plot to overthrow Frederick, however much she might like to. _Now_ was the time to act like she had an ounce of school spirit in her body.

Next to her, Celia gazed dreamily at the cheerleaders, their high ponytails and sequined outfits drawing the attention of most of the people in the stands. Rosalind elbowed her.

“Hey!” Celia said, yanking her gaze back towards Rosalind. “What?”

“Stop staring at Olive,” Rosalind complained. “It’s sickeningly pathetic.”

“What, I’m not allowed to have a crush?” Celia defended herself. Rosalind simply murmured her acceptance and leaned her head on Celia’s shoulder.

The afternoon sunlight hadn’t quite abandoned the bleachers yet, and Celia’s hoodie was so soft, and the sounds of people warming up were, strangely, rather soothing, and Rosalind had almost drifted off when she heard the whistle blow to signify the start of the game. Jerking upright, she rubbed her fists over her eyes and tried to focus on the game.

Almost right away, Angelo received the ball and moved up the field, blowing past the Arden forwards with brutish strength. Despite her overall lack of school spirit or interest in any sport besides volleyball, Rosalind felt her stomach clench. 

All of a sudden, a boy stole the ball from Angelo, darting in between him and the ball and using his body to shield it. Rosalind blinked, shocked. The boy looked younger than she would have expected a varsity soccer player to be, with messy brown hair and a uniform that he was swimming in. It seemed improbable that a guy who looked so muchlike a twig could win the ball off of Angelo with such ease, yet this boy - Rosalind squinted and could just make out DU BOYS spelled across his back - had managed it with ease.

And now he was orchestrating a counterattack, pivoting from a quick give-and-go with the left back to play a through ball to the right winger. That player collected it and sprinted down the wing, but Rosalind’s attention wandered away from him and back to the Du Boys kid. Something about the way he carried himself, sure of his abilities yet strangely hesitant, struck a chord in her chest. She watched as he joined his teammates in setting up for a corner, tugging on the hem of his uniform, and smiled involuntarily.

Celia, at her side, made a pained sound. Rosalind pivoted to follow her gaze and caught the end of a cheerleading lift, Olive flipping through the air before landing safely in the arms of the other cheerleaders. Rosalind patted Celia comfortingly on the shoulder. “She’ll be fine, Celia. You forget that she’s a senior and has been doing this for the past three years.”

Celia managed to choke out, “No, she’s just - really hot,” before blushing a violent shade of red and clamping her lips together. Rosalind burst out laughing.

“Oh my god, Celia, and here I thought you were concerned for her safety!”

Celia scowled, then perked up. “Oh, by the way, her brother’s playing on varsity today. He’s a junior like you, and he’s on JV, but I guess they wanted him for this game.”

“Mmm,” Rosalind muttered. “Who?”

Celia scanned the field, then pointed. “There. His jersey says De Boys, that’s Olive’s last name too.”

Rosalind felt her heart stutter, though why, she wasn’t sure. It wasn’t like she knew the kid at all; hell, she didn’t even know his first name. It was ridiculous to become attached to him from seeing him on a soccer field. What was this, _Romeo and Juliet?_ At her side, Celia regarded her curiously, her mouth dropping open.

“Ooh, someone has a cru-ush!” she singsonged. Without looking over, Rosalind lightly punched Celia in the arm, leaving the other girl pouting in mock indignation.

“I do _not,_ ” she hissed. “Crushes are juvenile and distracting. I can’t afford to do anything that would stop me from winning the election.”

Celia rolled her eyes. “The election doesn’t happen until May, and in case you hadn’t noticed, it’s December.”

Rosalind didn’t deign to dignify this with a response. The cousins sat in companionable silence for the rest of the game, occasionally discussing some piece of school gossip or a particularly showy play that either team had pulled off. Rosalind could barely tear her gaze away from the Du Boys player, tracking his every movement. By the time the game ended, a respectable 2-1 victory for the Arden team, she was pretty sure she could imitate his exact running stride, legs reaching just a bit too far with each step.

“Well,” Celia said, standing up and stretching, “I’m gonna go down to the track and talk to Olive. You coming?”

“When you say talk,” Rosalind said, following Celia towards the stairs, “do you mean stare at her creepily from a distance and try to discern if she might like girls based on, like, the way she does her hair, or were you actually going to maybe say a word to her this time?” In front of her, Celia huffed and flipped her off over her shoulder, eliciting a peal of laughter from Rosalind.

A few minutes later, Rosalind was caught up in the crowd of people milling around the track, aimlessly glancing around. She wasn’t quite sure who she was searching for until her gaze caught on the De Boys kid, and without giving it too much thought she headed over towards him. 

“Hey,” Rosalind said. He looked up at her from where he was placing his water bottle into a soccer bag, and oh, great, he was actually just as cute up close. _Not the time!_ she told herself. The boy grinned and stood up, slinging his bag on his shoulder. Rosalind waited for him to reply, but he just stood staring.

“Uh, you were really great out there,” she said, and his eyes crinkled.

“I was fine,” he muttered. “I shouldn’t have let Charles get past me on that one goal.” He dragged a hand through his hair, curls flying every which way, and Rosalind forced down the urge to reach out and play with them.

“No, but, I mean, you stopped him plenty of times,” she argued. “Like, the very first play, you stole it from him, and then there was also that time when you were marking him so closely that he missed a pass from his goalie, and-” she stopped talking when she noticed him staring at her strangely. “What?”

He shook his head slightly. “You, um… you were really watching, huh?” Rosalind blushed and nodded. The boy stuck out his hand. “I’m Orlando.”

Rosalind shook it. “Rosalind,” she told him. They stood like that for a moment, hands clasped, before she pulled hers back and awkwardly stuck it in the pocket of her jeans. Rosalind wavered for a moment more before noticing that Orlando, wearing only a flimsy jersey that was probably sweaty and damp, was shivering. It wasn’t exactly snowing, but given that it was December, the weather was not the most pleasant. Rosalind couldn’t believe she was about to offer this, but…

“Hey, d’you want my sweater?” she asked Orlando, tugging it over her shoulders and head. It was silent as she did so, and she cursed the material for being so thick and difficult to wrangle off her body.

“Uh. Yes, thank you,” Orlando stammered, and Rosalind placed it in his hands. He looked down at it as if it was the best gift anyone had every given him, and Rosalind felt a wrenching in her chest. He looked back up at her, still slightly astounded, and she smiled.

“Well, I’ll see you around, Orlando,” she said, turning to go. 

“Wait!” he said quickly. “JV has an away game this Friday at Illyria High. I know you’d have to drive or catch a bus there after school, but you seemed like you were really watching the game, so if you wanted to come, um. I mean, yeah, you should come?” Orlando didn’t seem to know where he was going with this, so Rosalind took pity on him.

“Sure!” she said, perhaps a bit too brightly. Orlando perked up, grinning that infectious smile, and Rosalind winced internally. Eventually she would have to tell him that she wasn’t really a soccer fan. Just an Orlando fan, apparently. “I’ll be there.”

“Great,” Orlando said.

“Cool,” Rosalind replied.

They stood there smiling awkwardly at each other. Of course, Celia chose that moment to bound up to her.

“Hey, Ros- oh,” Celia said, noticing Orlando. “Hi, cute lanky boy. Rosalind, are you ready to go?” Orlando, who had gone red at Celia’s description, shuffled his feet. Celia glanced at him again. “By the way, I’m not the one who thinks you’re cute,” she said. Rosalind wanted to punch her right in the face, but she wasn’t sure that inciting violence at a school game was exactly model behavior from the daughter and niece of the principal, so she restrained herself.

“Well,” Rosalind said, her voice unusually strained, “We should go.” Sparing one glance back at Orlando, she grabbed Celia’s wrist and dragged her off the track and towards the parking lot. Celia waved at Orlando over her shoulder. “I hate you,” Rosalind hissed under her breath, grip tightening. 

Celia shrugged. “I was only trying to help you out, since apparently your idea of flirting is giving away your clothes.”

“I wasn’t _flirting,_ ” Rosalind said. “I was only telling him that he did well in the game.” Celia snorted. “And you can’t tell me you were any smoother with Olive. Did you get a word in this time? ‘Hey’?”

Celia mumbled something intelligible. “What was that?” Rosalind said, falling into step beside her cousin as they reached the parking lot.”

“I _said_ , I told her I liked her shoes,” Celia said, her ears turning pink. Rosalind tried not to giggle, but it was inevitable.

“Oh my god, Celia.”

“I know. We’re both hopeless.”

“Fuck, we sure are,” Rosalind agreed. They reached the car, and Celia clicked it open. “Wait. No. Oh, god, I’m an idiot.”

“What?” Celia asked as they got in the car. Rosalind groaned, slamming the door shut with more force than was strictly necessary. 

“I _may_ have promised Orlando to go to his away game on Friday. At Illyria High. At night. When I was planning on going to Pinkberry with you and Touchstone.”

Celia just shrugged, pursing her lips. “We can go to Pinkberry after. I’m sure Touchstone wouldn’t mind an excuse to ogle some soccer boys.”

Rosalind sighed. “That’s true.” She still felt unsettled about the whole affair, though. Rosalind was used to being in control of everything she could possibly have any authority over, from her grades to her emotions. She knew how she felt about everyone in her life; resentment towards her uncle Frederick, disappointment in her father, fondness for Celia, annoyance and friendship all at once for Touchstone. Orlando was another kind of variable, something she had no control over, and she didn’t like it. If anything, maybe seeing him again on Friday would help her sort out how she felt about him. And if by “sort out” Rosalind meant “suppress any romantic feelings that may or may not have been developing and ignore Orlando for the rest of the year,” well, then, that’s just how things would have to be.

Celia pulled out of the parking lot and headed home. Rosalind rested her head against the window and let herself drift off to sleep.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rosalind goes to Orlando's soccer game at Illyria High School.

“Tell me again why we’re driving halfway across the city on a Friday night when we should be eating ice cream and watching a movie by now?” Touchstone whined from the backseat. Rosalind, installed in her usual passenger seat, ignored him.

“Because Rosalind has a crush on some guy on JV, and apparently she needs moral support if she’d going to go watch him play soccer,” Celia replied, flicking her turn signal on.

“I do  _ not  _ have a crush!” Rosalind insisted. “He asked me to come to the game! Was I just supposed to refuse?”

“Yes, Ros, he was probably just being polite,” Celia said. She pulled into the parking lot of Illyria High. A painting of their mascot, a pirate, glared down at them from the top of the building, and Rosalind found herself glaring back. She was used to making fun of her school’s mascot - a deer, really? - but the pirate was almost worse in its cartoonishness. 

As the three juniors made their way to Illyria High’s stadium, a damp fog began to roll across the sky. By the time they reached a seat midway up the bleachers, the normally beautiful view of the city that was offered by the school was covered in a layer of thick grey mist, turning the field into an island of sorts. Rosalind shivered, though she didn’t quite know why.

Touchstone and Celia continued commenting, jabbering on about the players - “Yes, that’s Sebastian and Cesario- yes, they’re twins, identical” - “Oh, they’re new this year, aren’t they?’- but Rosalind was in her own world, gazing over the misty horizon. The whistle blew, and she jolted upright, turning her attention to the game. 

Once again, Rosalind watched Orlando the whole time, barely even conscious of the fact that the Arden team had managed to scrape their way to a victory, 1-0 this time. When the final whistle sounded, she smiled and turned to look at Celia and Touchstone, who were cheering loudly. 

“I’m going to say hi to Orlando,” Rosalind announced, jumping onto the next row of bleachers with a satisfying thump.

“Oh, are you- oh, okay, she’s sure,” Touchstone laughed from behind her. She turned back in time to see him offer his arm to Celia. “Milady?”

Celia laughed and took his arm, and Rosalind continued hopping down the bleachers, smiling at their antics. She loved Celia and Touchstone; Celia was her cousin and childhood best friend, and the three of them had been inseparable since sixth grade. Sometimes, though, she worried about how she would fare in the real world. Rosalind had grown used to depending on Celia’s strength and warmth, Touchstone’s cheer and mischief. Would she even know how to be a person without the two of them by her side?

Rosalind reached the side of the field once again, darting her way through the players milling about until she found Orlando. He was deep in conversation with Olive, looking pained. Olive was dressed in street clothes- cheerleaders didn’t go to away games- gesturing around herself quite aggressively. 

As soon as Rosalind got within earshot of the siblings, Olive caught sight of her and clamped her mouth shut. Olive patted Orlando on the back perhaps a bit more forcefully than was necessary and brushed past Rosalind. Rosalind caught the tail end of a sentence that may or may not have included the word “girlfriend” and felt her face heat up.

“Hey,” she said brightly. “Good game!”

“Thanks,” Orlando replied, shifting his soccer bag to the front of his chest. “Here, I wanted to return this. Thanks for letting me borrow it… I’m always forgetting stuff, as Olive loves to remind me about.” He held out Rosalind’s volleyball sweater, neatly folded and freshly washed. Rosalind took it.

“Uh,” she cleared her throat. “Thank you! My coach probably wouldn’t be too happy if I lost this either.”

“Mmm,” Orlando replied noncommittally. He swung his backpack back around and coughed. “Uh, so, d’you think I could ask you something?”

Rosalind raised one eyebrow. “Depends. What is it?”

“Well. See, I know junior prom is a way away, but I don’t have anyone to go with… and I know you know a lot of people, but- “

“Oh,” Rosalind said, her heart sinking just a little. She forced herself to grin. “Yeah. Ex-principal’s kid, I know all the cool girls who you want to go on dates with.”  _ Stupid soccer players with their stupid smiles and stupid taste in girls,  _ she thought, then gritted her teeth, sighing. “Yes, I can get you a date to the junior prom. Which girl?”

“Um,” Orlando said, staring at her blankly. 

“Okay, which guy?” Rosalind supplied, tapping her foot. She didn’t necessarily mean to be rude, but she was a bit tired of being asked to set people up or dig up gossip on kids.

Orlando looked like he was choking. “Neither- I mean, either one, theoretically, but that’s not… I don’t want- know?-” 

Rosalind cut him off, feeling bad for the kid. “Here,” she said, holding out her hand. “Let’s not do this here.” Orlando looked lost once again. “Give. Me. Your. Phone,” Rosalind enunciated. “Dumbass.”

Orlando’s eyes gleamed, a strange mix of offended and pleased. Rosalind decided not to read too much into it and accepted the phone once he’d unlocked it. She opened the contacts app, typed furiously for a few moments, called herself, then handed it back. Orlando looked at the contact, and his mouth twisted into the semblance of a smile. “Cupid?” he read off the screen. “Huh?”

“Well, I’m helping you find a date, right?” Rosalind explained. “I’ll text you when I’m free. We can meet in the library or something, create a list, whatever.”

Orlando nodded, less subdued than he had been a few moments later. “Right, sure. Listen, I’ve gotta go, Olive’s waiting, but I’ll see you… Cupid,” He winked and strode past her. 

Rosalind closed her eyes, very decidedly  _ not  _ concentrating on the smell of the hoodie tucked beneath her arm, or on Orlando’s endearing awkwardness, and certainly, most definitely, never,  _ ever _ allowing herself to dwell on his wink and the flip in her chest it had provoked.

Heaving a sigh, Rosalind pushed her hair back from her face and headed back towards the bleachers. Celia and Touchstone were talking together, faces glowing and slightly pink in the crisp air. Rosalind hopped over to them, feigning excitement, and slung her arms around their shoulders.

“Rosalind!” Touchstone cried. “How’s your boy?”

Rosalind grimaced. “He, um. He asked me to set him up with someone else for junior prom.”

Touchstone exhaled shortly. Celia winced, saying “Oh, Ros. Did he tell you who?”

“No. Not yet. I told him we’ll meet up to discuss it later.”

Celia hugged Rosalind, burying her face in the taller girl’s shoulder. “You don’t have to help him, you know. That’s a pretty shitty thing to do.”

Rosalind laughed helplessly. “I know. I’m going to do it, though.”

Touchstone watched them hesitantly, biting his lip. “You know what makes everything better?” he asked.

Celia released Rosalind from her tight hug. “What?”

“Going to my house, eating ice cream that my parents think they can hide from me, and watching musicals. Or movies. Just, you know, sometimes watching people sing and dance cheers me up.”

“Any excuse to push your theater kid ways on us, huh, Touchstone?” Rosalind said, smiling. “That actually sounds great, though. What did you have in mind?”

“Pippin?”

Rosalind smacked him. “Do I  _ look  _ like I want an existential crisis today?”

Gasping, Touchstone uttered, “Oh my god! You know Pippin! I’ve corrupted you!”

“More like, you’ve ranted about how much you love Matthew James Thomas enough that I could recite his credits off the top of my head,” Celia interjected.

“What can I say?” Touchstone looked off into the distance dreamily, plastering a sickening grin on his face. “It’s the smile… and the voice… and of course-”

“Okay, I’m gonna stop you there,” Rosalind said, waving a hand in front of his face. “Let’s just go, we can pick something later.” Touchstone made a noise of discontent, but stopped his painful description of the actor.

The trio headed towards the parking lot, leaving behind the misty air and the echo of words fumbled over and unspoken.

Touchstone’s voice echoed back over the field.

“Just out of curiosity, Celia, could you  _ actually-” _

“Shut up.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> look! a plot device! woo hoo! i’m pretty sure this is the first time i’ve written fanfiction that even begins to have any semblance of a plot, so that’s exciting. um, yes i did include pippin bc that's all i was listening to the day i wrote this and i can't be bothered to change it.  
> also twelfth night cameo yayayay.  
> as always, kudos and comments make my day! if you're reading this i love you and i hope that my love for rosalind and orlando is obvious bc they are the absolute best <3


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rosalind has her first matchmaking meeting with Orlando.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this took a bit longer than the last update, sorry! and as a heads-up, i start school next week, so my updating will definitely continue to be sporadic & probably pretty slow. <3 thanks for reading!

Rosalind was running late. It wasn’t her fault, exactly; she’d just gotten caught up talking to her AP Lang teacher about  _ The Awakening,  _ and then she’d looked down at her watch and noticed that it was already 3:27, and she was supposed to be meeting Orlando in the library at 3:30. So she’d raced down two flights of stairs, across the courtyard, swung under a railing, and was now taking the stairs up to the first floor of the science building two at a time.

Rosalind wasn’t really sure why the school library was located on the first floor of the science building; it made it a lot more inconvenient when English teachers sent their kids to get books. It wasn’t the nicest library, either, with stained carpets and wooden chairs that looked suspiciously like they’d been chewed on by rats. Rosalind didn’t register any of that today, though (fixing the library had already been added to her mental list of things to look into once she was student body president).

Bounding into the library, Rosalind made a beeline for the private room in the back where she’d arranged to meet with Orlando and shoved the door open, an apology already spilling out. “Sorry, so sorry, I got caught- up,” she finished slowly, letting the door bang shut behind her.

The room was empty.

Trying not to feel like she’d just been stabbed in the chest, Rosalind set her backpack down on the floor and sat heavily in one of the chairs. A splinter attached itself to the underside of her pants. “Fuck off,” she muttered, pulling it out. Sighing, Rosalind slid her phone out of her top backpack pocket and checked it. No new notifications. No word from Orlando.

Rosalind waited for ten minutes, scrolling aimlessly through her Instagram while firing idiotic gifs back and forth with Touchstone.

Finally, she sighed and stretched, pulling up Orlando’s contact. It just- it didn’t sit right. There was this guy, and he was sweet, and handsome, and good at soccer, and he had  _ seemed  _ responsible enough as they were planning this meeting, and then he just… didn’t show up. Or showed up late and didn’t bother to let her know. Rosalind knew this shouldn’t be getting to her like it was, but god, did it hurt to be stood up by a guy who she was literally setting up with other people.

Rosalind’s phone lit up. She glanced over, nearly giving herself whiplash in the process, but it was just Touchstone with a gif of the Face of Boe. She didn’t dignify that one with a response.

Another five minutes passed as Rosalind took inventory of the small room: four windows spanning two sides that looked out over the courtyard and basketball courts, three chairs around a solitary round table, two shelves filled with comic books and manga, one pathetic girl slumped in a chair-

Zero seconds until the door burst open and Orlando flew in, tripping on the doorstop and going flying. Instinctively, Rosalind put her hands out and caught Orlando in her arms. Heaving him up, she found herself staring right at him. He was bright red, his hair just as messy as it usually was after a soccer game, his eyes- were they green? Brown? Just sort of… pond-y? were wide and, now that she thought about it, they were standing  _ very very  _ close. 

Orlando opened his mouth, presumably to apologize, but instead what he said was “You have strong arms.”

“I- sorry, yeah, it’s the volleyball. It’ll do that to you,” Rosalind explained. She was still gripping Orlando’s forearms, and shifted her hands. He tensed.

“I have noodle arms,” he explained, gently pulling himself away. He smiled sheepishly and waved them in front of him. “See? Nothing there. Just bone and fat. And skin, I guess. I’d be useless at any other sport. I mean, I can barely take a throw-in, I’m so...” he trailed off. Rosalind cocked a head at him.

“Well!” she said. Orlando was certainly a strange person, but at least he seemed to be her type of strange person. “Shall we? I have a list of names here: two lists, actually. One is people at this school, others are aquaintances in the district I think you might like. If you’d like to sit-”

“Sorry,” Orlando blurted out, cutting her off. Rosalind looked at him curiously. “For being late, I mean. I had a GSA meeting, just a check-in really, and it went longer than I expected, and-”

“GSA?” Rosalind interrupted.

“Gay-Straight Alliance?” he offered, setting his backpack down and taking a nearby chair. Rosalind sat back down in hers. “We realize that’s a little, well, obviously not everyone in it is gay or straight. But we tried calling it the Everyone Alliance last year, and it just sounded weird, so we’re back!”

Rosalind felt a pang in her chest thinking about the GSA. She’d been considering joining ever since her second semester of freshman year. Touchstone was involved, and Celia went occasionally, but- Rosalind wasn’t sure. She wasn’t sure about- about anything, to be honest. It sounded simple but it really, really, wasn’t, and it had been  _ years  _ and she had thought she’d know by now, and-

And she was definitely being suspiciously silent. Orlando looked at her, cold as ice. “Is everything… cool?” he asked. Rosalind’s eyes widened.

“Oh, yeah! Yes, I- um. I, uh, I’ve just thought about joining the GSA but- But never have, I didn’t know you were in it, that’s cool, um, so. Yeah. Anyway, let’s get on with this. First up: my friend Horatio from Elsinore High really needs to get over this stupid crush he has on his best friend. He’s nice, like you!” Rosalind really hoped Orlando couldn’t hear the way her voice had pitched half an octave higher with nerves.

Orlando didn’t respond, just regarded her, eyes solemn. Slowly, he reached out and set his hand over hers. “You should come to the GSA,” he said softly, and  _ no,  _ Rosalind was not about to cry, goddamn it. She nodded, hoping that was the end of it, but no rest for the weary, apparently. “Even if- I mean. You don’t have to have it all figured out. No one really has it  _ all  _ figured out, anyway.” 

Rosalind could not deny the fact that there was a tear forming in the corner of her eye. She pulled her hand out from under Orlando’s, already missing his warmth, and rubbed her eyes furiously.

“No, yeah. Sure. I’ll- okay.”

Orlando smiled, then stood up, his chair shifting a few inches back with an exaggerated squeak. Or maybe he’d actually hit a mouse with the chair. It was hard to tell in the library sometimes. Rosalind let out a shaky breath as Orlando wrapped her in a hug (with his noodle arms, she thought, and chuckled through a half-sob). Rosalind squeezed her eyes tight and hoped she could just stay there forever.

Unfortunately, bending over a seated, emotional teenage girl did not seem to be the most comfortable for Orlando. He let her go after a few seconds and sat back down, looking both sympathetic and nervous. Rosalind dimly wondered how he managed to always look  _ incredibly  _ endearing, every single time she saw him, then pushed the thought away.

“Anyway!” she said brightly, sniffling one last time. “We’re here to discuss  _ your  _ love life, not mine, so let’s get cracking. Number one on the outside-of-Arden list, Horatio.”

Orlando let out a laugh, bright as the flickering fluorescent lights that lit the library, and bent over the list.

An hour and half later, Rosalind glanced outside and was shocked to see that night had practically already fallen. It was always an unpleasant surprise to feel the days creeping shorter and shorter, finding herself waking up and going to sleep in the pitch-dark.

“Hey, it’s kind of late,” Rosalind said regretfully. “I should head home. My dad will be wondering where I am.”

Orlando looked up from where he was cheerfully brainstorming date ideas in the back of a notebook. “Hmm? Oh,” he said, noticing the light- or rather, the absence of it. “Yeah, yeah. Olive’s cheerleading practice must be over soon, too.”

“Oh, didn’t you have soccer?” Rosalind asked as she swept her school materials into her backpack. Orlando did the same.

“Nope. Coach gave us the day off after we got in a light practice during sixth period. We’ve got a tough game tomorrow, and he wanted us rested.”

“Who’re you playing?” Rosalind asked as they headed out into the main building of the library. The librarian, Corin, gave them a stink eye. The library technically closed at 4:30, and apparently he hadn’t realized they were in there. Rosalind waved cheerfully at him, and he rewarded her with a begrudging smile.

“Messina,” Orlando said, holding the door open for her. Rosalind stepped out into the hallway. “They’re your rivals in volleyball, too, right?”

“Oh, yeah,” Rosalind said bitterly. “They’ve got this one senior, Beatrice- she’s incredible. So fierce. She literally never looks afraid. They knocked us out of playoffs, actually,” she added as an afterthought. 

Orlando grimaced in sympathy. “Yeah, that happened to our varsity team last year. Huge bummer. So, yeah, we really want to beat them…” he trailed off. They’d reached the bottom of the stairs. “Will you be there?” he blurted out. Rosalind blinked. She’d forgotten that Orlando originally knew her as ‘that one really intense and weird soccer fan.’

“It’s here, yeah? Then probably,” she said. “My uncle - Frederick - he makes me and Celia go to, like, every home game.”

“Ah, yeah, I forget you’re the principal’s niece,” said Orlando, nodding. “Neat.” Rosalind bristled, reminding herself that the kids here didn’t know Frederick personally, weren’t subject to his offhand homophobic remarks and his overly strict and unnecessary rules like she was. Orlando was just making small talk.

“Yep,” she said, though it almost physically pained her to agree. “Listen, I’ve gotta go around to the back of the school, so-”

“Right, right,” Orlando shifted from side to side, gripping his backpack straps like a middle schooler nervous for his first day of school. Rosalind resisted the urge to beam at him like a sappy girl with a crush. Which was something she did not have, by the way. A crush. Nope. “Well, I’ll, I’ll text you about how the date with Horatio goes! Bye!”

With that he waved, and was off. Rosalind allowed herself two seconds to miss him, then raised her phone, dialing Celia.

“Celia?” she said as her cousin picked up. “Are you heading towards the front of the school?”

Celia let out a breath. “Oh, yes, Rosalind, I’m so sorry. I’ll be there in a minute.”

“No, it’s fine, I’m just leaving the library,” Rosalind said, hitching her backpack up higher and starting to walk. “Where are you, anyway? Still at tutoring?”

A light chuckle came through the phone line. “Uh, I’m by the field, actually. I went to see Olive.”

“Oh?” 

“Yeah, we talked after her cheerleading practice.” Rosalind could hear Celia beaming through the phone line. “ _ She asked me to go on a date!”  _ Celia practically screamed. “Oh my goodness, sorry, sorry, that was so loud, I just! Gah!”

Rosalind beamed. “Celia, that’s awesome! I’m so happy for you!”

“I know! I know! I mean, thank you, it’s just, I really don’t know how that actually happened! Anyway, I’m almost at the front of the school, I’ll fill you in on the way home.”

With that, Celia hung up, and Rosalind slowly lowered the phone from her ear. She was surprised to find that she wasn’t consumed with happiness for Celia, despite knowing how long she’d been pining over Olive. Maybe it just stung to see almost everyone she knew get their lives together while she drowned in classes and extracurriculars and now, apparently, had to play Cupid for a soccer player she barely knew. Rosalind squeezed her eyes shut, giving herself a few moments to just breathe before Celia showed up. Maybe one day she’d be able to feel content without thinking about everything looming on the horizon. For now, she took each minute as it came and held on tightly to what was good was left in her life.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *slamming my fists on the table* orlando may be dumb sometimes BUT! he is also EMOTIONALLY INTELLIGENT and VERY COMPASSIONATE and UNDERSTANDING!  
> also, me? basing arden high 98% on my high school? projecting onto orlando to the point where he’s basically me but better? hahahaha it’s more likely than you think.  
> also! i definitely don't think rosalind is cishet, but i'm not really sure how she'd identify, so i'm leaving that pretty open in this fic.  
> thanks for reading!

**Author's Note:**

> this is ridiculously cheesy and i have only a vague idea of where i’m going with this but i hope you enjoyed it!! drop me a comment and i’ll love you forever :)  
> the high school bleachers and field are shamelessly based on the ones you can vaguely see in the background of the carnival scene at the end of grease - you can kind of see the descending bleachers in the back a few times if you squint. just envision that but with an actual soccer field there, not a fairground. that school has been used in a bunch of other movies & tv shows anyway so i don’t feel bad using it for my mental pictures in this. anyway that’s all bye!


End file.
